𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐂𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 ━ five hargreeves²

23│THE CANDLE FEEDS THE FLAME

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❛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴛʏ ᴍᴄғʟʏ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ғᴇᴇᴅs
ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴀᴍᴇ ꒱　


❝ WE CAN TOTALLY JACK UP
OUR PRICES AS TWO-TIME
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Emotions had never come easily to Five Hargreeves. As a person so based in scientific fact and mathematical equations to explain existence, something as intangible as feelings would never be his strong suit. Forty-five years alone in the apocalypse certainly didn't help. Still, there were several memories that came with sentiments so strong that even he knew they were important.




𝐢. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

At age three, Five already knew he was brighter than the rest of his siblings. He'd mastered the basics in half the time any of them did— particularly Four, who'd taken almost a year to get his ABCs. His father had seen that, too, and he set him on a more challenging course (no one could say that Reginald Hargreeves was not an attentive parent. Careless? Yes. Cold? Definitely. The one parental trait he had was being observant.) Therefore, even at an early age, Five had already separated himself from his siblings in leaps and bounds— a phrase that would soon become literal for him.

Their father often assigned quiet partnered study when they were younger. It was a chance for the Academy to bond and kept the noise, fidgeting and distractions to a minimum. (Most would not think this was not the case but with the competitiveness he was already breeding in them, self-monitoring in the face of other members did wonders for their developing social habits.)

These were the usual pairings: One and Three. Four and Six. Seven and Eight. And due to lack of an odd number, Two and Five— this was just them being in the same room together; no actual talking took place. So, it was an easily explained surprise that on Monday, instead of Two entering the library and taking a desk far, far away from him, the couch he was sitting on dipped slightly and the warmth of a solid body pressed against his arm, making him give an annoyed look to the interrupting blonde.

"What do you want?" he snapped. (At this moment, he and Eight had very rarely spoken.)

The girl turned her big, blue eyes on him and in a quiet, enthusiastic whisper (he had to admit that he was pleased she was trying to respect the rules), announced: "I'm Eight."

Five gave her a 'really?' sort of look. "I know."

She stuck out her bottom lip but persisted, "well, I was just thinking that it's kinda weird we all woke up one day and were like, oh yeah, you live in my house. I'm your sibling. We never really got introduced to each other. So, I'm Eight."

He shifted away from her slightly. "I don't care. I'm busy. What happened to Two?"

The blonde huffed. "I asked him to learn with Seven today. I want to get to know all my siblings. You're very prickly."

The blunt observation made him blink. "That's because I don't like you."

To her credit, she didn't seem to be hurt. "Well, that's because you don't know me. I'm Eight," she repeated.

The boy sighed. "I'm Five. Are you happy now? Send Two back in. At least he doesn't talk."

"I can not talk."

"Doubt it." Out of all of his siblings, she had the most energy and often got into trouble with their father. He didn't want any part of it.

"I bet you," she pulled a thoughtful expression before her face lit up. "I won't talk to you ever again if I can't be quiet for two minutes."